


Christmas Lights

by boredomandwhiskers



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, How Do I Tag, I'm new and don't understand, M/M, Phan Drabble, Phanfiction, Very Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:59:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredomandwhiskers/pseuds/boredomandwhiskers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan and Phil live opposite each other. Dan hates Christmas so Phil tries to teach him what it's about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first-ever fanfiction. Please (hopefully) enjoy.

30th November 11.59pm

Rain trickled down the window pane of the house, clouds drifted over a half empty moon and a three week late firework went off a few miles away. Dan Howell stood by the window, semi-shrouded by a thin swathe of brown cotton decorating the glass. He muttered something unfathomable under his breath and stared for a second at his watch, a crease rushing across his brow. After a few split-second twitches of the curtain the hand ticked over to the next hour and Dan stood upright, casting his gaze across to the house opposite – the house where Phil Lester lived.  
Phil was the only neighbour Dan never spoke to, the only neighbour to whom he never even nodded when he took out the bins. But he was the only one for a reason, the reason being that he was perfect. Dan’s eyes followed him every day as he left the house and went to work, just so Dan could sneak a glimpse of his cheerful face in the greyness of weekdays. Dan would’ve made some effort to get to know Phil, to maybe have his feelings reciprocated, but he knew they were too different. Phil was always smiling, always had a kind word and always had a jumper for an occasion. Dan was quiet, isolated and hated holidays. So Dan stayed silent and surly, and became the blank canvas in the abstract gallery of the street.  
As the church bell rang out across the town a few blurry masses gathered on the pavement and stood expectantly, as if waiting for something important. Then someone began a chant and after ten long, drawn out cheers Dan’s month was ruined. What had been the low, understated two-storey house opposite his was now ablaze with light, red and green, subtle and violent. Strings of lights followed each other around the roof like ducklings following their mother across a road and in the hedge fairy lights twinkled invitingly, as if daring you to embrace the Christmas spirit. Neighbours, young and old, huddled by the gate as they did every year at this time. It was a small street but its population had turned out in full. All aside from one.  
Dan remained at his window, glowering bad-temperedly at the festivities outside. He had never exactly been an extroverted person but Christmas brought out the worst of his anti-socialism. Scrooge, the Grinch, you name any Christmas bad guy and you could bet Dan was worse, despite being twenty years younger than most Christmas haters. While others celebrated with their families Dan sat in his living room, eating cereal, alone. He’d never known what it was about the holiday that sent him into a bad mood, he just knew that it irritated him more than it should. As the yelling outside died away Dan trudged upstairs, forming his plan for the next day.

1st December 11.02am

Dan knocked on the door, moving his hand slightly to avoid the wreath that hung between the two glass panels. As he waited for the door to open he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his keys, to reassure himself that this would be fine and that Phil was just an overly festive neighbour. Then the door opened and he looked into the azure swimming pools that were Phil’s eyes.  
“Hi, my name is Dan, I live opposite” he stuttered, gesturing back across the road, “I’d like to complain.” Phil looked back at him and Dan could see the confusion behind his eyes. He got it, it was the look everyone gave him when he complained about Christmas, but it didn’t change his opinions. Why should he have to suffer through a month and a half of songs, lights, programmes, and adverts just because it was a societal norm? He continued, “About your lights?”  
“Why exactly?” replied Phil. Dan coughed anxiously, staring at his leather-clad feet while a blend of terror and excitement frothed silently inside him. An awkward couple of seconds followed as Dan tried to muster the right words in his head.  
“Well, they distract me when I’m trying to work and frankly, I find them hideous,” said Dan as he shivered on the doorstep, wishing he’d worn something warmer in the six degree cold. He coughed once more and glanced nervously behind him, towards his simple, unadorned house. He knew Phil thought he was strange but Dan was fed up of living in a swamp of compromise. He had built up the courage to knock on a relative stranger’s door, this couldn’t just end with an awkward conversation. It didn’t.  
“Well,” Phil paused, “I guess you’d better come in.” He moved back from the doorframe and beckoned Dan into the narrow hall that unfolded behind him.  
A few minutes later Dan was sat awkwardly on a battered green armchair, skimming his eyes back and forth across the room and trying to take in the sheer amount of decorations, photos and pieces of golden tinsel that adorned every one of them. The living room was a complete contradiction of his own, whilst Phil’s home emitted a cosy aura of December, cinnamon and warmth just twenty-five metres away the equivalent in Dan’s house was a stark, empty shell, devoid of emotional attachments. Dan was busy wondering how two rooms so close to each other could contrast so much when Phil came in, balancing two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits on a small tray patterned with dancing reindeer. He handed Dan a plain charcoal mug before he sat down on the sofa with his own drink. Silence settled as they sipped their beverages in unison.  
Suddenly Phil spoke, “So, why exactly do you object to my lights?” He placed his cup on the cluttered coffee table in front of him, knocking it with his arm as he did so and Dan winced slightly when it almost slipped off. Dan hesitated. He had been about to continue on with the argument he’d been planning in his head but something about Phil made him want to confess his deepest secrets, tell his darkest truths and reveal his most intimate moments. Now he had waited too long and Phil was staring at him and he didn’t even have a reason anymore.  
“I just hate Christmas, okay,” said Dan finally. “I don’t know why, I’ve never known why so don’t ask. So around this time of year everything irritates me and having to live opposite your lights for a month is going to piss me off. That’s it.” He paused. “That’s all it is,” he murmured, more to himself than to Phil. They sat in the quiet for a few more seconds before Dan shoved his mug into Phil’s hands and stood up to leave.  
He had made it out of the busy living room and was back in the hallway when he was confronted by a hug. A hug from the man in the warm jumper, who smelled of coffee and spices, who Dan had silently watched for the last three years without ever thinking their eyes would meet. A hug from Phil. Seconds passed as the two men held each other closely, yet carefully. For a while the confined hallway was the perfect size for Dan, just small enough to be cosy, just big enough that he and Phil fitted perfectly. Dan pulled back abruptly, left the house, hurried down the steps and returned to his own house. Alone.

2nd December 09.46

Dan ate his cereal slowly, pondering on all manner of things as he shovelled spoonful after spoonful of bland gravel down his throat. As he stood up to toss the bowl in the sink he heard a knock at the door, a shouted apology and the ring of his doorbell. No one ever visited Dan, especially not at this time of day. Cautiously Dan opened the door to see Phil, holding a box crammed full of baubles, tinsel and baking ingredients.  
“Look, I know this is weird, Dan, but I was wondering if you’d let me show you how I feel about Christmas? It’s my favourite time of the year and as you don’t exactly know why you hate it I thought I could show you some of my favourite things about it.” Phil looked up at Dan expectantly, waiting for a reply. Part of Dan wanted to let Phil in, show him around and decorate the house with him, but he just couldn’t. He shut the door on Phil without saying anything and went back to bed, despite having only got up two hours ago.  
Every day, at roughly nine in the morning, Phil crossed the road and rang Dan’s doorbell, stayed for two minutes and then left. Dan never answered but often he woke early and watched from his window, wondering why on earth Phil cared so much.

23rd December 09.12

As had become usual this month, Dan was leaning on his thin windowsill, once more obscured from view and once more waiting for electronic chime that had begun to ring like clockwork. Soon enough he looked out of the window to see Phil, and his box, crossing the road towards his door. Dan ducked out of sight, sitting on the thin, cheap carpet with his arms wrapped around his knees. But today something felt different, he could sense a wave of determination and courage sweeping towards his front door. He had a feeling that today Phil wasn’t going to budge from the doorstep. He was right. “Dan?” Called Phil through the letterbox, his voice floating past Dan’s ears and around the room. “I’m not going to leave, I don’t care if you ignore me.” Dan swore under his breath and stood up, before slowly opening the door.  
“Hi,” Dan paused, “Are you really not going to leave?”  
“No. I think it’s time someone showed you what Christmas is all about, you’ve clearly missed something.” Dan looked at Phil, seeing that he really did just want Dan to enjoy Christmas. Part of him sighed a little because he had been hoping there was something else behind this, that Phil wanted to know him as much as he wanted to know Phil. He should have known better, this was the season of goodwill after all, it wasn’t like Phil had been watching him all these years, it wasn’t as if they were the same.  
“I suppose, if all you want is to help, you can come in,” said Dan, relenting. He opened the door wide and let Phil in. He led him into the spotless kitchen, where Phil proceeded to put the box on the table and sigh audibly with relief.  
Dan leant against the counter and sighed, “Get on with your ‘make Dan Christmassy’ crap then” he said, yawning slightly as he did so. Phil smiled slightly and opened the box, pulling out baking ingredients, a recipe book and biscuit cutters.  
“How much do you like mince pies?” asked Phil, a smile broadening across his face as he passed Dan the scales and sprinkled flour across the counter.  
“I hate them with a passion,” replied Dan, a hint of sarcasm seeping into his voice as he spoke the truth. Phil just laughed and turned on the radio so that a wave of jingle bells and snowmen hit Dan’s ears unexpectedly. Dan groaned and half-heartedly attempted to turn it off, not minding too much when Phil swatted him away, spilling flour on Dan’s almost pristine black jeans in the process. “Phil, for goodness’ sake!” exclaimed Dan angrily. “These were clean and now you’ve ruined them,” Dan was genuinely angry, he hated mess, he hated people dirtying his things and now he hated Phil for doing all of these and not caring about it.  
“That’s what happens when you bake Dan,” Phil said, “a little bit of flour isn’t going to kill you, is it?” He grabbed some flour from the packet and splashed it across Dan’s face, causing Dan to look like he was in attendance at a paintball party for ghosts. Dan glared as Phil giggled, only ceasing when he caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink.  
“Jesus, I look like I’ve had a horrific fake tan incident or something,” said Dan, mock angrily. He shook his head from side to side in a bid to reduce the flour to skin ratio on his face. White dust swirled across the room, coating Dan and everything around him, including Phil, in a thin layer of Tesco’s finest self-raising. Dan’s jeans had gone from black to grey and Phil’s hair had turned from jet to pepper. Dan swore loudly, burying his face in his hands as he did so.  
“It looks like it’s been snowing,” said Phil, unable to control the stream of chuckles that were trickling from his mouth. “Now it’s really Christmas!” He walked towards Dan and slowly lifted Dan’s hands from his face, revealing Dan’s blushing cheeks and blinking eyes. As Dan looked up he could sense the silence in the room, despite the radio still blaring from the corner. He opened his brown eyes and looked straight into Phil’s sapphire ones, their faces just a few inches apart. The expressions on their faces mirrored each other and as their gazing match continued all Dan could think was; ‘Phil Lester, my actual neighbour is here, in my kitchen, staring into my eyes.’ A second seemed to last hours and then the clock ticked and Phil blinked and it was gone. Dan moved back hurriedly, grabbed the dustpan and brush and dropped to the floor in a frenzy of embarrassment and murmured apologies. Phil did much the same thing, reaching for the tray of mince pies and almost tripping over Dan in the process.  
The morning continued on awkwardly, eye contact avoided and accidental touching apologised for profusely. Phil waffled on about the joys of this time of year as Dan listened uninterestedly, only thinking about how he’d endure any amount of festive bullshit if Phil was there to make puns and smile at him. Only once Phil had exhausted his seemingly endless supply of baking ingredients did he grabbed Dan by the arm and dragged him out the door and onto the pavement into the almost frost.  
“What are you forcing me to do now?” asked Dan, glad he had a coat.  
“Help me to carry a ladder,” replied Phil, enjoying the new-found power he now seemed to have over Dan. Dan didn’t even complain, ’the more time spent with Phil the better’ was his philosophy today and to be honest he was too busy watching Phil’s lips move when he spoke to listen to the words that fell out of them. So together they crossed the grey ribbon that separated their two very different universes and entered Phil’s dusty, cluttered garage. A few minutes of manual labour and “to-me-to-you”s later and Phil had contrived to prop his ten year old ladder against the slate hat that sat uncomfortably above Dan’s battered front door.  
“Phil?” called Dan.  
“What?”  
“If you dare put Christmas lights on my roof I will push you off your ladder,” said Dan as he watched Phil clamber across the afore-mentioned roof with all the skill of a tipsy reindeer. Phil just smiled and continued to drape the ribbon of lights he was holding around the edge of the chimneypot. Dan groaned, regretting having ever let Phil near his house and climbed the ladder to join him, no mean feat considering how tight his (now flour-stained) jeans were. He tiptoed up to the low apex of the roof and leant against the chimney, leaning against the cold, dark brick and half-heartedly attempting to undo Phil’s complicated and knotty handiwork. As Dan reached his hand to it his fingertips brushed softly against Phil’s and he swore he could feel Phil’s heartbeat accelerate at the rate of lightning. Slowly Dan lifted his gaze, not daring to move a muscle in case he fell from his insecure perch. Once more their eyes made contact but this time there were no warbling songs, mistimed kitchen incidents or ticking clocks to disrupt the moment. Dan leant forward, gripping the chimney with his right hand as he did so. Phil moved too, until all that was between them was a dark chimneypot smothered in unlit fairy lights and a single, perfect flake of snow, the first of the festive season. Dan could bear the tension no longer, he rushed towards Phil, sandwiching the snowflake between their lips as he did so. Phil returned the kiss just as the flake dissolved and, as snow began to rain from the clear sky above them, Dan couldn’t help but think that maybe Christmas wasn’t such an awful celebration. It had given him Phil, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Constructive Criticism deeply appreciated. Written for the Phandom Countdown to Christmas on Tumblr (and therefore originally posted there). Thank you again.


End file.
